


Something to Say Goodbye With

by yoshizora



Series: Pre-Flamebringer [4]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: F/F, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 14:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13412949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Brighid is to be sent to Gormott without her Driver for the first time.





	Something to Say Goodbye With

The sun has yet to rise. Mòrag’s been awake far longer than she’d care to admit. Usually, the faint noises from the city and the Titan itself are enough to lull her to sleep, but it’s been one of those evenings where her mind was far too preoccupied to settle down. 

Brighid senses her unease, which is why she knocks at Mòrag’s door while the sky is still dark. 

“Lady Mòrag?”

“Come in.” She turns when Brighid enters, offering a somewhat apologetic smile. “Did I wake you?”

Brighid shakes her head. “It’s alright.”

“Your ship will be departing at dawn.”

“I’ll have plenty of time to rest on the journey.”

Mòrag turns back to look out the window, her unease stirring like water disturbed by a dropped stone. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Brighid says, making no movement to approach her. “We have our duties to fulfill. I’ll only be gone for a month, besides.”

“It would be far too easy for the Senate to extend your stay in Gormott. You know how tense the situation there currently is.” 

“Even so, this won’t be the first time when we’ll have to work separately. We’ll both have to get used to that.” 

She’s only speaking the truth, but it’s hard for Mòrag to swallow. The Emperor had been just as reluctant to separate her from Brighid, especially with how close they’d become, but the Empire always comes first and Mòrag can’t use her personal feelings in any debate on the matter. 

Gormott still struggles, even after their sound defeat from years ago. Mòrag would have preferred to be there herself to keep an eye on things with Brighid, but.

“You can just admit you’d miss me. Maybe that would take some of the edge off of it.” 

Mòrag softly huffs. “There’s no need for me to say it out loud.”

“But it would be nice to hear, nonetheless.” 

It’s only par for the course for the Jewel of the Empire to work alone more often than not. That’s just how it’s always been throughout Mor Ardain’s history. Mòrag already knew that, which is why she wasn’t surprised at all when the order came to send Brighid away by herself.

She would miss her, though. Mòrag finally steps away from the window and to her desk. She takes something from one of the drawers and motions for Brighid to approach. 

“A parting gift,” she blurts out before Brighid can ask, holding the belt out with both hands. Mòrag’s ears may or may not be turning red, though her face remains more or less impassive. “Crafted by one of the Empire’s finest artisans to my specific orders.”

Brighid appears surprised, but almost unsure. She doesn’t take the belt, only eyeing its intricate gears and fine leather. “It’s… lovely.”

Mòrag’s expression falls. “If it’s not to your liking—“

“No, no, it really is exquisite,” Brighid quickly says. “But as I said, you’ve been thinking too much. A parting gift really isn’t necessary.” 

“I _want_ you to have it, Brighid. Consider this my way of saying I’ll miss you.” 

Well, it’s as good as the actual words. Brighid steps closer and smiles, cupping Mòrag’s face with her hands. “Then I’ll gladly accept it. Although… would you do the honors of putting it on for me?” 

Her ears are definitely red now. Mòrag nods, fumbles with the belt while cursing her own hands for trembling, and reaches around Brighid’s waist. All the while Brighid does nothing but listen to her Driver’s racing heart, drawing circles upon her cheeks with her thumbs. Someday, maybe as soon as within the year, Mòrag will shed the awkwardness of youth and grow into her blooming confidence. It would be a shame, Brighid imagines, so she might as well enjoy this to its fullest. 

Mòrag’s eyes grow just a bit wider and her ears turn a bit more red each time her fingers accidentally brush against Brighid’s hips. It feels like an eternity before she’s finally able to secure the clasps and let her hands drop. Brighid continues stroking her face for several more seconds before stepping back to examine her reflection in the window. 

The belt is crooked. Mòrag, realizing this as well, makes a flustered gesture. 

“I’ll fix it—“ 

Brighid holds up a hand to make her pause. “No… I like it as it is.” 

Mòrag looks like she kind of wants to die on the spot, extremely unbefitting of the Empire’s Special Inquisitor, but she’s developed a habit of letting down her guard when she’s alone with Brighid. “If you’re sure…” 

Her distress is so dramatic that Brighid has to laugh. “You really do think far too much for your own good, sometimes.” 

“I—“ Damnit. She doesn’t know what to say to that. So instead, Mòrag reaches for something else from her desk. “There’s one more part to the gift. Here.” 

“A dagger?”

“I know you don’t need such a thing,” Mòrag says, unable to look Brighid in the face. “Since you can generate your own weapons. But this is… this was mine. And before it was mine, it was my mother’s.” 

“You mean…”

She nods, inhaling deeply through her nose. Mòrag looks down at the dagger with some sort of faraway sadness, fingers running over the worn leather sheath. “My mother died when I was young. I have very, very few memories of her. This dagger… it’s just a reminder of that. But that also makes it one of my most prized possessions.” 

“Lady Mòrag. I can’t take this.” 

“I cannot continue grieving for a woman I hardly remember,” Mòrag quietly says, already fastening the sheath to Brighid’s belt. “When I look at this dagger, I don’t want to think only of my losses. I’d like to begin associating it with fond memories, too.” 

Brighid places her hand over Mòrag’s while she lingers over the hilt. “You know I’d never use it.”

“You don’t need to. Just carry it with you.” 

“… With honor, Lady Mòrag.”

“Heh…” Mòrag bows her head and leans in close to Brighid, resting her head on her shoulder. “I’ll miss you, Brighid.” 

Their affinity link is warm; they’re both coated with wisps of gold. Brighid presses her lips to Mòrag’s hair, praying that this lifetime would break free of the traditions of her previous incarnations, of constant and lengthy separations. They can handle themselves on their own just fine, but that wouldn't make the distance any less unbearable.

“And I’ll miss you as well."

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't include the vials because i still don't know wtf those were for


End file.
